Nurse Clara, her stern countenance unwavering, beckoned Gretel. "Follow me, please."

Her heart pounding, Gretel walked down the starkly white corridor, the clack of her bare feet echoing off the gleaming walls. The room they entered was a clinical blend of white and chrome, the only color provided by the crimson curtains that could be drawn around the examination table.

"This is where we begin," Clara said, her voice clipped. "You'll start with a standard intake exam. Dr. Castellanos will be conducting it."

Gretel's eyes widened as Sister Clara instructed her to disrobe. "Remember," she emphasized, "everything is being recorded and supervised for your safety and our analysis."

The other nurse, Sister Agnes, returned with a tray of instruments that glinted menacingly under the harsh lights. Gretel swallowed hard and did as she was told, feeling the cold air kiss her skin as she removed the oversized scrubs. Marcus, one of the male orderlies, took her clothes and gave her a knowing wink. "A quick hygiene inspection," he murmured, his smirk belying any sense of modesty.

Timothy, his counterpart, stepped closer. "Spread your arms and legs," he instructed.

Gretel felt a flicker of panic but complied, her body trembling slightly. He inspected her hair, her ears, her mouth, and even her nails. Each touch sent a jolt through her, a strange mix of fear and anticipation.

The examination room was cold and unforgiving, the gleaming chrome surfaces reflecting her naked form in a way that made her feel both on display and utterly alone. The orderly's eyes lingered on her breasts, the pink tips of her nipples tightening under his gaze. She tried to shrink away, but the table beneath her was unyielding, a silent witness to countless other examinations.

As he moved closer, his breath warm against her neck, he whispered, "Open wide, let's check those pearly whites." She did as she was told, feeling his fingers probe her mouth, the metal of his instruments scraping against her teeth. The sensation was oddly intimate, and she couldn't help but think of how rarely anyone had ever been this close to her.

When the inspection was complete, he nodded to Sister Clara, who stepped forward with a measuring tape. The nurse's face remained expressionless as she recorded her height and weight, her eyes not meeting Gretel's. The ritual felt both clinical and degrading, reducing her to a series of numbers and measurements.

Next, Sister Agnes approached with the calipers, their cold metal jaws snapping shut around different parts of her body—her waist, her thighs, her arms. The nurses murmured to each other, noting down her body fat percentage. Gretel felt like livestock being assessed at market, her worth being determined by the whims of these strangers.

The two sisters then retreated to a corner to confer, their whispers just out of earshot. Gretel couldn't help but feel like a specimen, her self-consciousness magnified by the starkness of the room. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold onto what little dignity remained.

It was then that Sister Clara called the orderly over with a nod. "Timothy, we need you to shave Miss Gretel."

Gretel's eyes widened in surprise, but she remained silent, unsure if this was part of the examination or some form of prelude to the treatments she'd signed up for. Timothy, the male orderly, stepped closer with a tray laden with a shaving brush, shaving cream, and a straight-edged razor. He was a mountain of a man, his muscles flexing beneath his uniform as he worked.

With a sigh, she lay back on the examination table, her legs splayed open. Timothy's eyes never left hers as he lathered her pubic area with the cream, his hands surprisingly gentle despite their size. He took the razor and with meticulous strokes, began to shave her bare. The sound of the razor scraping against her skin filled the room, each pass removing a layer of her inhibitions along with the hair.

The tension grew with each stroke, and Gretel felt a peculiar mix of fear and arousal. She'd never been so exposed in front of a man before, especially not one who wasn't her lover. Yet, the vulnerability was strangely liberating. As the last of the hair fell away, she felt a peculiar sense of purity, as if she'd been reborn.

"Very good," Sister Clara said, her voice breaking the silence. "Now for the final preparations."

Gretel looked up, her skin feeling both cold and sensitive from the shaving. Sister Clara held out a small plastic cup. "Miss Gretel, we need a urine sample to rule out any infections or underlying issues that may affect our assessment."

Gretel took the cup with a trembling hand and retreated to the bathroom, her eyes never leaving the floor. The bathroom was as white and sterile as the rest of the clinic, and she found herself feeling more vulnerable than ever before. She did as instructed, the warm stream of urine hitting the plastic with a faint echo. She emerged, the cup filled, and handed it to Sister Clara, who took it without a word.

The nurse nodded to Sister Agnes, who then took over. "Miss Gretel, for a thorough examination and cleansing, we require you to have an enema. This will ensure that your lower intestine is clear of any residue that might interfere with our procedures."

Gretel felt a knot of anxiety coil in her stomach. She'd heard of enemas before, but had never experienced one. The thought of such an invasive act was unsettling, but she had come too far to back out now. She nodded meekly, and Sister Agnes led her to another room, this one even more austere than the last.

The enema room was a study in minimalism—a single chair in the center, surrounded by cabinets filled with medical supplies. Sister Agnes instructed her to sit on the chair, which had a hole in the center and was equipped with stirrups. Gretel complied, her legs shaking as she spread them wide, placing her feet into the cold metal stirrups.

The nurse explained the process in a clipped tone, her eyes never meeting Gretel's. "The enema involves inserting a small tube into your rectum and filling your lower intestine with a warm, soothing solution. It will help cleanse you and prepare your body for the treatments ahead."

Without another word, Sister Agnes opened a drawer and retrieved a rubber tube attached to a bulb. She lubricated the tube with a clear gel, her movements swift and practiced. Gretel felt a mix of trepidation and curiosity as she watched the nurse approach with the tube.

The nurse's touch was surprisingly gentle as she inserted the tube into Gretel's anus. Gretel tensed, bracing herself for pain, but it slid in with surprising ease. Sister Agnes squeezed the bulb, sending a warm rush of fluid into her bowels. Gretel's body tensed around the intrusion, the sensation strange and uncomfortable.

The nurse stepped back, watching impassively as Gretel's face contorted with the sensation. "Now, Miss Gretel, you will need to hold the fluid in for as long as possible. This will help to loosen any waste and ensure a complete cleansing."

Gretel nodded, her cheeks red with embarrassment. She sat there, the fluid warming her from the inside, feeling more exposed than she ever had in her life. The minutes dragged by, the pressure building, until Sister Agnes finally nodded. "You may release now."

Gretel felt the warm fluid leave her body, the relief bringing with it a sudden rush of humiliation.

Sister Clara, the nurse with a stern expression, stepped forward. "Miss Gretel, the next part of the examination involves taking your rectal temperature. Please lie back down."

Her voice was firm but not unkind, and Gretel complied, her heart racing. The orderly, Timothy, gripped her wrists firmly but gently, his thumbs pressing down on the pulse points as if to reassure her that she was safe. Sister Clara approached with a thermometer, her movements efficient and precise.

The nurse leaned over, her face a mask of concentration, and inserted the thermometer into Gretel's anus. The cold metal penetrated her, sending a shiver through her body. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of her own breathing. The room was silent except for the faint beeping of the thermometer and the rustle of fabric as the medical staff waited for the reading.

After what felt like an eternity, Sister Clara pulled out the thermometer and noted the result with a nod. "Very good," she said.